John August

First Person

Starting out in Hollywood

Film Industry, First Person, Los Angeles

adam and johnI met [Adam Davis](http://imdb.com/name/nm2515431/) last year. He was a student at Drake University, my alma mater, and came with the high recommendation of a mutual mentor. Adam wrote and directed a lot of short films while he was at Drake, and movies were clearly his calling. He was wondering whether he should bite the bullet and move to Los Angeles. I said yes, definitely — but he should prepare to work his ass off when he got here.

Adam took me at my word. I’ve had lunch with him a few times since he’s moved here, and after our last batch of Baja Fresh, I asked him to write up his experience so far.

Every year, a few thousand recent college grads move to Hollywood, hoping to get started. Here’s how Adam did it. He’s very much mid-process, but notice how much he’s hustling to get his next job. How you can never tell who is going to pay off as a contact. That’s how it works.

—

first personadam_hollywoodWith a goal of becoming a writer/director, I moved out to Los Angeles in late March with my friend from college to try to get work on sets as a production assistant. The first few days were an exhaustive apartment search, and luckily, we were able to find a place in Culver City within the week.

As we waited for our internet to be hooked up, I was able to piggyback on someone’s wireless signal and started the job hunt. I went to my three favorite websites, [craigslist](http://craigslist.com), [mandy.com](http://mandy.com), and [entertainmentcareers.net](http://entertainmentcareers.net). Every day was spent sending out resumes and cover letters for any and all PA jobs I could find. Features, shorts, commercials, music videos, it didn’t matter.

The first week was terrible. No calls, nothing. The feeling of impending doom of being jobless, or even worse, having to get a regular job, was awful.

But in the second week, I started getting calls. I interviewed to be a PA on a short film that was shooting in late April for two weeks with a pay of $20 a day. Having nothing at the time, I agreed to it. But it still didn’t solve the problem of having a job now.

I had another interview for a feature which was supposed to start pre-production at the beginning of April, and got hired on in the art department. That was going to pay $50 a day, which I was ecstatic over. The day before I was supposed to start work, I got a call saying that the movie had been pushed back to August 1st.

So again, no job. Wanting to get on set and make connections, I took a job in the art department for a music video for no pay one weekend. I was told that they had more jobs that paid coming up and if you worked for free they would get you on the paying job. Since April, I still haven’t received calls for a paying gig from them. I’ve received many calls for more non-paying jobs, but none that pay.

But overall, it was a very interesting shoot where I got to spray the band members with chocolate-tinted water to simulate black rain. Just something you don’t get to do very often.

Becoming a little desperate, I started calling people that I had worked with and met last summer, when I had an internship with Marvel Studios. I had worked on a feature for a few days for free, and I called up the 1st AD, who remembered me. He said that the film he was on was fully staffed right now, but if anything came up, he’d let me know.

adam paA day later, he called saying that he needed me to be a key set PA for three days. I snatched up the opportunity, and worked on Dead Air, a zombie horror film.

After that, work on the short film started. It was called The Legend of My Heart-Shaped Anus, a quirky comedy being submitted to Sundance. It was great working with such a small crew because I got to learn a lot about lighting and cameras. And instead of being a PA, I turned into a grip and electric. Wrangling cables, setting up lights, carrying stands, everything. In one scene, I got to drop heart-shaped poo, made out of chocolate, onto two puppets fighting. It sounds strange, but it makes sense when you see the movie. I started thinking that perhaps the mark I would be making in Hollywood is to drop various incarnations of chocolate onto people and things.

Then May rolled around. I applied to more jobs and had a few more interviews, one with Lionsgate in the office of the CEO. They were looking to groom future studio execs, and since I expressed my interest in the creative side, I was told that perhaps a desk job wouldn’t be the best thing for me. I knew that to be true, and I’m very glad they picked up on that and let me know.

Then I had an interview scheduled with a guy who needed a personal assistant as well as a PA on his TV show. I went to the coffee shop we selected to meet at and he never showed and never answered his phone. So that was another one that didn’t work out, but it was for the best because I had an interview to be a PA on a shoot for Fox Reality’s Average Joe: Reality Revealed. I got the job and got to help the producers out with some pre-production for the shoot. We shot the interviews that weekend, and apparently I impressed them enough because on Monday they brought me on board to be an assistant editor since I know Final Cut Pro.

The editing job lasted from May through early July, and during that time I was given enough freedom to work other PA jobs as they came up. The 1st AD that got me on Dead Air, called me to work on a PSA, so I worked as a PA during the day, then went straight to the office to edit through the night. I did that for three days, and luckily my brain didn’t explode due to lack of sleep.

Later in June, a contact that I met last summer during my internship called me with an opportunity to work on the new Judd Apatow produced film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I jumped at the chance, and got to work on my very first big studio flick. That single night on Forgetting Sarah Marshall was the most fun I’ve ever had on a set.

I then got a job as a PA on an indie feature that’s hopefully going to Sundance, Thunder Geniuses, so I had to end my time at the editing job. Thunder Geniuses shot at a studio, a school, and then in the woods for two weeks and it was the most demanding shoot I’ve been on so far. But it was also extremely rewarding since I was able to make some great connections with a lot of people that can hopefully get me work in the future.

After 18 grueling days, we wrapped and I got a call from the editor of Average Joe: Reality Revealed, asking if I could come back and help out with some more editing to finish up the project. That’s what I worked on last week, and this week I’m not sure if I’ll be working on it again, since we’re almost finished.

I also got a call from my contact to work on the new Will Smith movie, but I had to turn it down because of my previous commitment with the editing job. But my roommate was able to take my place, so that’s a benefit.

I’ve been applying for more PA jobs, but hopefully I’ll get to rely on applying less and less since my network expanded greatly after Thunder Geniuses. But as of right now, I’m back to updating my resume, searching the internet for jobs, and debating whether or not to bug my contacts for work yet. But that’s what I like about the job and the life in Los Angeles. The uncertainty and the excitement of never knowing what’s going to happen next or who might call with the next awesome job. I’d prefer nothing else.

On floating jets

First Person

I arrived in Chicago yesterday for a few days’ work on the next thing I’m writing.

In the cab leaving the airport, I saw a giant jet landing. Something about our relative speeds and angles created the illusion that the plane wasn’t moving forward at all. Rather, it was gracefully floating straight down.

It was levitating, basically. I pictured Magneto with his gloved hand stretched out, fingers bent, a look of weary concentration in his eyes.

Anyway. It was cool enough that it needed to be noted.

As it turns out, I could care less

Directors, First Person, The Nines

I fired an eight-year old girl.

It was the third day of production on The Movie, which had already endured freak rains, poison oak, rattlesnakes, bee swarms and a mountain lion. None of which could compare to this little girl.

The soon-to-be-fired pre-teen was a stand-in for our eight-year old actress. As a stand-in, her entire job was simply to reflect light and not be annoying. She failed.

She was über-annoying: a cross between Pippi Longstocking and Nellie Olsen. Whichever way I looked, she was there. While I was discussing wardrobe with an actress during lunch, Demon Girl pushed her way into the actress’s trailer, just for a look.

I promptly told the first A.D. that I wanted the brat gone. When she somehow showed up on the set after lunch, I clarified my earlier statement: I never wanted to see that little girl again, beginning immediately. A white production van arrived to whisk her off to whatever circle of Hell or Reseda had spawned her.

Was it really this little girl’s fault? Perhaps not. She was, after all, eight. Her parent-slash-guardian was alarmingly lax, considering the aforementioned rattlesnakes. And there’s a compelling argument that children should not be stand-ins at all. I had asked about using an adult little person for a stand-in. Apparently, it’s not uncommon, but we couldn’t swing it in time.

But that’s not the point.

I offer this story of juvenile termination to illustrate the single most important skill I developed while making The Movie: I learned to care less.

It seems anti-social — anti-human — to argue for less compassion. But in order to direct the film, I consciously decided to harden my heart a little. And by ZeusIn appreciation of Richard Dawkin’s [The God Delusion](http://www.amazon.com/God-Delusion-Richard-Dawkins/dp/0618680004/sr=8-1/qid=1160776464/ref=pd_bbs_1/002-6262160-3232047?ie=UTF8), I’ve decided to stop referring to the Abrahamic God and start spreading the wealth to other mythical deities., it helped.

In ordinary life, I’m nice, to the point of obliging. I tend to treat people in my life like guests at a never-ending dinner party I got roped into hosting. I want everyone to be comfortable, yet at the same time, I secretly want them to leave.

I find myself apologizing for things completely out of my control, like the weather, or the incompetent baggage clerk at Newark.

A friend of mine, who is one of the more emotionally-intelligent people I’ve met, labels this behavior “over-functioning.” I take responsibility for things that I should better leave alone, and reverse-delegate tasks out of a skewed sense of fairness.

This is a questionable strategy for life. But it’s a flat-out awful strategy for directing a movie. A director’s first and only concern needs to be getting the story into the camera — damn the cost, fatigue, frustration and hurt feelings.

So I changed.

I decided that while I was on set, my only responsibility was to the movie, and my ability to direct it. With this philosophy in hand, many decisions became easier.

It didn’t matter why the little girl was annoying. It wasn’t my job to figure out what her malfunction was, or why her parent-slash-guardian wasn’t keeping tabs on her. The little girl was getting in the way, and thus, she had to go.

When the the focus puller tripped during a complicated Steadicam shot, Ordinary John would have insisted that he get checked by the medic. Director John didn’t. Mr. Focus said he was okay, so we kept shooting. I could see he was hurt, but that wasn’t my responsibility. He was a grown-up, and it was his decision. He could take care of himself.

The real test of this new philosophy came while we were shooting at my house. Normally, the presence of any stranger in my home sends me into full host mode. If I haven’t offered you something to drink within the first minute of your arrival, either I’m off my game, or I’d rather you leave. But when it came to The Movie, I let it go. The house was just a location; the crew was just the crew; it wasn’t my responsibility to find more toilet paper.

The real surprise of my Month of Caring Less was that I found myself caring much more deeply about the things that actually mattered.

Without the background noise of a thousand little niceties, I could focus much more clearly on what I wanted to happen in front of and behind the camera. I could talk to actors about motivation in very precise terms, because all I cared about was their moment, not the long-simmering feud between the gaffers and the camera department.

To be clear, I didn’t become an asshole. I think.I guess technically, I shouldn’t care if I did become an asshole. I only yelled three times, which is three more times than I would normally yell in a year, but well within guild standards. After the little girl, I fired three other crew members, not because they were bad people, but because they weren’t doing what I needed them to do for the movie. Which was all that mattered.

And now that we’ve wrapped? I’m probably a little less obliging, a little less eager-to-please. I expect more out of people, and am quicker to express my displeasure when someone isn’t performing.

Still, there’s no doubt I’ve gotten softer. As I recently wrote to that better-adjusted friend:

I’m worried that the theoretical actors and crew of my theoretical movie might feel exploited by a decision I don’t need to make for months if ever. This keeps me awake at night. Not North Korea. This. Bah.

Which, in a way, is fine.

I think part of being a writer, or an actor, is letting yourself feel things without judgment. A director leads an army into battle; a screenwriter leads characters into danger. They’re vastly different jobs, which require different temperaments.

But I’ll definitely keep part of the experience with me. After you’ve cared less, you recognize a certain dishonesty in a lot of what passes for sociability, and the opportunity cost of too much pleasantry.

For example, the first day of shooting, there was one crew member I was certain wouldn’t work out. He was uncomfortably weird and grumpy. Yet as I watched him work, I realized he was just really into his job. Essentially, he was doing what I was doing, putting the movie first and everything else later. He was too focused to be friendly. But he ended up being a lifesaver, solving problems in seconds that could have taken minutes.

So what did I learn in making The Movie? It turned out, I could care less. And both the film and I were better for it.

———

Turns out, he was busy reconsidering Tyra Banks

First Person, Los Angeles

You know how you can go months without seeing someone, then suddenly, they’re everywhere? This morning as I was getting into my little Prius, screenwriter/neighbor/inconstant blogger [Josh Friedman](http://hucksblog.blogspot.com/) rolled up in the Death Star Escalade to discuss our respective children’s nap schedules in anticipation of a playdate.

Yeah, I said playdate. This is how we roll in the Southside.

Of Hancock Park.

I suspect Josh was taking his family to BLD (“Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner”), the new restaurant that took over where Red used to be, and is pretty much exactly like Red but white instead, and without those Mexican Cokes.

In typing that, I realize that I’ve now lived in L.A. long enough that I expect everyone to share my specific geo-cultural references. Or, more bluntly, I’ve now lived here long enough to stop caring when they don’t. It only takes a New Yorker six months to become this jaded. Los Angeles takes a decade.

Later today, I followed a link to the [trailer](http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/universal/theblackdahlia/) for Josh’s upcoming movie, The Black Dahlia. I don’t know how he got his name in red in the credit block, but from now on I’m putting that in my contract. I want red and a little box around it.

Upon checking the feeds this evening, I see Josh has finally posted [something new](http://hucksblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/snakes-on-motherfucking-catwalk.html) on the blog. And while I’d like to take credit for this rare occurrence, the more pressing matter is addressing some corrections/clarifications:

* My assistant does not bring me breakfast, though he often brings lunch. (However, I do not [blog about](http://www.janeespenson.com/) it.)

* In daily life, my house is light-filled like a Richard Curtis movie. However, to achieve the look of this on film for The Movie required giant lights and hard gels velcro-ed to all the doors and windows.

As Tyra knows, beauty takes work.

That’s all.